


Dark Vengeance

by Anathema_Compass



Category: Horror - Fandom
Genre: Crime, Horror, Magical, Multi, Swordfighting, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anathema_Compass/pseuds/Anathema_Compass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compass, as everyone knows, is no doubt an instrument that people used for navigation, for orientation and for geographical guidance. But what if it was never created to help you find your way... what if it was consigned to inevitable destruction... By then you may realize that sometimes in life, you and I just have to learn when to expect the unexpected in order to survive the game of death...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Vengeance

Chapter 1 Captured

'Just what is this place...and where am I?' 

The body of a barely conscious man was slumped against a cold, damp brick wall. A rat scurried over his bare feet and tugged momentarily at the torn hem of his striped shirt. Ashton Hendrix opened his sticky, encrusted eyes but there was nothing to suggest he could see. It was black as pitch and the air was musty, tainted with the smell of something so foul it made his throat retch as soon as the aroma hit the cavity at the back of his nostrils.

'Am I dreaming? Is this real?'

He moved his hand around aimlessly, trying to find something to touch in the dark, so as to obtain even the slightest clue to the question regarding his current location and whether he was really in a dream...Unfortunately...Nothing...

Desperate, he felt the damp cotton of his shirt and tried pinching through the material to see if he could feel any pain. He squeezed harder and harder till a sensation of pain reached him – one that proved to him that this felt too real to be a dream. His heart sank. So he was alive, but in a situation far worse than death.

He tried to recall what had happened, but the only thing he could remember vividly now was the bedraggled sight of a little girl standing alone in the woods. Her stringy hair hung limply down her back, which was barely covered by the rags she wore. Yet what stared insolently from the pallor of her face was a pair of intense eyes framed by dark circles of fatigue. Despite her entire being looking lifeless and worn, her eyes remained focused and alert, staring right at him, undaunted by the rain that was starting to pelt down in torrents.

He had noticed the girl when he was running away from his house, from this mysterious looking man who appeared at his cottage in the morning. Whoever he was, wherever he came from and whatever he was wearing – a wine red tailcoat with thin vertical stripes, a silk hat and an authentic masquerade mask, he had no idea why this man had threatened to take his life if he failed to do as he was told.

But there was absolutely no way for someone like Ashton Hendrix to comply with the task he was given. It was totally impossible, way too risky and he couldn't afford it. If his memory did not fail him, there was the mention of ‘killing’, being the ‘chosen one’ and ‘sacrifice’. Luckily, that flicker of consciousness in his mind – which was slowly being consumed by his fear – allowed him to spring into action and gather all his might for his escape.

Yet, throughout his escape, the same unblinking eyes bore into his very soul every time he turned to look behind him. Somehow, the girl always managed to spot him even though he tried to run in a zigzag manner within the trees, like a needle threading its way through a particularly impenetrable fabric. 

However, what Ashton failed to notice was the thing that she was holding in her hands. It was giving out a stygian gloom, like as if the object was shrouded in black smoke. But given his current situation, it was perfectly understandable for him to have missed that. Because no matter how you see it, it’s definitely not the right time when you have a hunter-like person brandishing his burnished sword and chasing after you.

The sky rumbled ominously and a flash of lightning appeared illuminating the darkened sky. Before long, Ashton was completely soaked to skin and shouted in dismay as the ferocious wind blew past him, menacing, unforgiving and frenzied. Branches were tearing at his shirt and flesh, leaving his hands covered in cuts and blood. He didn't care. He had to escape no matter what. To him, being captured was equivalent to death.

What happened after that was something he was unable to recall. All he knew was that he received a blow on his head, causing him to knock-out on the spot and eventually resulting in his throbbing headache and slight dizziness now. And here he was, all alone in this room of never-ending darkness, at least, that was what he believed. 

Yet, what was about to occur turned out to be something horrifying and the most terrifying sight of his life. The sound of a car engine starting could be heard and light was slowly pouring in from a window at the far end corner of the room, giving him a few seconds of illumination. Instinctively, he raised his hand to shield the light from his eyes, before registering the scene in front of him.

There, in the middle of the room, laid a nightmarish mountain of human remains – dark, earthy skeletons, stacked up like discarded mannequins, crumbling rib cages, severed heads, headless torsos with remnants of flesh still clinging to them. He felt a sudden chill start at the base of his spine and trickle up his back, bringing a shiver to his scalp.

“Oh my...God...” he muttered, staring at the rotting flesh, mottled bones, empty eye sockets and skeletal fingers. 

At that moment, he felt a hand pulling at his shirt and he felt a palpable sense of foreboding swirling around him like an invisible odor. Slowly, he turned around and before he could stop himself, a scream that stabbed the cushion of silence like sharp needles escaped from his lips.

As the car drove off from the garage and the lights passed by, terrible languor assailed his body and his consciousness dimmed. Together with the deathly blackness of the mass grave, he was plunged again into the darkness.

-TO BE CONTINUED-


End file.
